


Don't Leave Me (Tongue-Tied)

by pseudokuwu



Category: Hitman (Video Games)
Genre: Being Walked In On, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Canonical Character, Semi-Public Sex, takes place during The Showstopper mission in paris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28583277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudokuwu/pseuds/pseudokuwu
Summary: “Tobias?” Daniel says, voice unsure, before he seems to gather himself and takes a step forward. “I — I’ve been looking for you.”“Oh?” 47 responds, schooling his body language into one more relaxed. “Well, you’ve found me.”Daniel must’ve not anticipated that response, by the way he blinks a few times before he replies. “Yeah, I’m. I — No, okay, come on Daniel — I just wanted to know if you wanted to, maybe. Grab a drink sometime?”“There’s a free flow bar two rooms down from here,” 47 says nonchalantly.“What? No — No, I mean. I mean, um,” Daniel struggles, “I mean outside of here. Like… once this party is over. Just you and me.”-47 is never one to pass up a well-timed opportunity.
Relationships: Agent 47 (Hitman)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42





	Don't Leave Me (Tongue-Tied)

**Author's Note:**

> Also known as: while exploring the Paris map I overheard [this one NPC conversation](https://youtu.be/DOaThIemjSs?t=166) and immediately felt the need to write a fic about it.
> 
> Happy 2021 everybody, stay safe out there.

_ “Watch out, 47. Novikov is heading your way, and his bodyguard is on the lookout for suspicious individuals.” _

47 doesn’t curse, because frankly he’s never been one to, but it’s a near thing as he glances discreetly over his shoulder to confirm Diana’s words. Perhaps it’s his own fault. He’d been a little clumsy earlier, slipping out from behind a private area backstage and accidentally catching the eyes of a security guard, but still. An assassin is only as good as his ability to be patient, to improvise. 47 had managed to play it off as a slightly tipsy guest looking for the bathroom, but Donovan had been looking at him while he was getting the security guard to escort him out, and he doubts Novikov’s personal bodyguard would be one to forget faces so soon at such a high profile event.

He can see them making their way up from the opposite end of the hall. 47 quickly scans the room. The runway isn’t too far away, and there’s a sizable crowd around it he could disappear into there, but it’d take too long and Donovan would catch sight of him long before he could meld in. There’s a closet in arm’s reach, but it’d be impossible to slip into without half the room noticing him. Novikov and Donovan are coming from backstage, so 47 can’t slip back there — not that he’d want to even if he could. The security guard there already knows his face.

He’s about to take his chances by strolling back to the entrance hall when an opportunity presents itself.

“—Mother, you’re taking awkward to a  _ whole _ new level here — I’m, I’m gonna get a cab—”

“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you! Sit and brood in a dark corner and paint your little figurines like you always do—”

47 doesn’t even hesitate as he subtly changes his course to the man and woman bickering off to the side. The corner the man and woman are standing in is just out of the way enough to avoid most of the crowd, and not too out of the way to be odd. It’s the perfect spot to blend in.

Besides, judging by the way the woman’s yelling and the man looks close to finding a way to put his head through the nearest wall, 47’s willing to take his chances on at least one of them looking for a change in topics.

“—Guess what Daniel,  _ I’m _ having grandchildren, and if I have to physically, if I have to  _ physically move your pelvis back and forth and in and out _ then God help me so be it—”

“Pardon me,” 47 smoothly interjects, “I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation, but I have to say, I love your dress.”

_ “Now  _ that _ is one hell of a lie,” _ Diana remarks in his ear as the two before him abruptly end their conversation to look at him. 

The woman blinks in surprise, before her expression turns to one of pride and pleasure. The man — Daniel, presumably — looks much the same, except instead of pride, his cheeks have gone ruddy-dark, red splotches blooming on his neck. Simultaneously unable to look 47 in the eye, and unable to look away. 47 files that information away for later.

“Oh, why thank you, I see at least  _ someone _ here has taste!” the woman exclaims. Her teeth are artificially white in the camera flashes, and the ring on her finger gleams when she tosses her hair over her shoulder. “It’s my own design. Catherine Von Steele sound familiar? Bringing  _ couture _ back to Canada?  _ C’est moi! _ ”

47 lets his mouth twitch into a vague, small smile, even as Diana rattles off the details of this woman in his ear that sums up to her being a veritable nobody. “I am delighted to be in the presence of such a star.”

She  _ preens. _ “Such a charmer! Flattery will get you everywhere, I’ll tell you what, mister…?”

“Rieper. Tobias Rieper.” 47 lies smoothly, glancing away from her and to the man at her side. “And you?”

Daniel only blinks owlishly, seemingly caught unawares by the question, at least until Catherine digs her elbow into his side and makes him hiss in pain.

“ _ This _ is my son, Daniel,” Catherine remarks exasperatedly, “I brought him here tonight so he could meet someone,  _ anyone, _ and  _ maybe _ continue my legacy, but, well! You see what I have to work with.”

_ “Mother,” _ Daniel hisses, cheeks growing more flushed, rubbing the spot by his ribs. His gaze flickers to 47’s, looks away, and then glances back again, in the span of a second. “Please, just… ignore her.”

Behind him, 47 hears Novikov and Donovan make their way across the room. He can feel a pair of eyes on his back. He only fakes a little laugh, and tilts his head at Daniel, in a way he never would if he were himself.

“I doubt you’ll have too much trouble. You’re very handsome.” 47 says, and watches the way Daniel’s eyes turn to meet his again, wide and disbelieving. It’s almost cute. “Perhaps you could try to be a little more assertive. Confidence is key.”

“Oh my  _ God, _ I tell him that  _ all the time! _ You see, Daniel! It’s not just me!” Catherine says, smacking Daniel on the arm and jostling him out of the moment. She continues to rant a little after, but 47 is too focused on the way he feels the eyes move off of his back, the way he hears whispers of  _ oh, Mr Novikov! _ coming from the crowd in the next room over to really warrant paying too much attention to him.

_ “Nice work, 47. Novikov’s on his way to the bar. Perhaps you could make use of what you’ve found in the basement pantry, mm?” _

47 idly feels his jacket pocket — yes, the rat poison is still there — before tuning back into the conversation. Catherine Von Steele is now talking about her latest line,  _ ON-Tario, _ while her son seems to be unsure of whether to be embarrassed or flustered, caught between staring openly at 47 and hiding his face in his palm. Either way, they’ve served their purpose, so 47 clears his throat politely.

“Sorry for leaving as abruptly as I arrived, but I really should be going to meet a friend now by the bar,” 47 says, “But it was a pleasure to meet you both. I hope to see you around later, perhaps.”

“Oh, absolutely! I’m friends with Sato, so if you find me after I could totally introduce you two,” Catherine winks, and 47 doesn’t think too hard about how Sato is presently unconscious and stuffed in a crate backstage. “Maybe Daniel will actually get his act together by then too, huh?”

_ “Mother, _ ” Daniel hisses, before looking at 47 and straightening up, coughing a little. His face is still flushed, but his shoulders are held back as he tries to nod casually, not-quite meeting 47’s gaze. “Pleasure to meet you too, Mr Rieper.”

“Please,” 47 smiles vaguely, “Call me Tobias.”

Then he walks off, letting the sound of Catherine’s high pitched voice fade into the thrum of the bass as he himself fades himself into the crowd of bodies. There is, after all, a bare knuckle boxer on the bar countertop with his name on it.

* * *

He’s just about on his way out of the party when Diana’s voice pipes up in his ear, urgent.

_ “Security just found Dalia’s body. They haven’t put out the evacuation order yet, but they will once they find Viktor’s, whom they’re undoubtedly trying to contact right now.” _

47 pauses in his tracks, and subtly changes course to walk back to the hall, close to the backstage dressing rooms. Leaving now would be a stupid risk, then. They’ll be checking every person who passes through any of the exits, and 47 hadn’t taken the liberty of knocking out Donovan, so he’s sure he’ll be a person of interest if he tried to abscond now. As is, it’s been a mere few minutes since he’d drowned Viktor in one of the bathrooms and stuffed him in a closet, so he doubts they’ll find him for another ten or so, but still. One can never be too careful.

He glances around the room for options. He could hide out until the party is over, but that could take hours, and while 47 is patient he’d rather not waste more time than he has to. There’s also the current very distinct possibility of them finding Viktor’s body, in which case there’ll be an evacuation and undoubtedly mass screening of guests. Alternately, he could trigger the fire alarm and have everyone evacuate, but that wouldn’t guarantee safe passage out the gate. Perhaps he could —

Someone clears their throat behind him, and 47 turns swiftly. 

He almost raises his brows.

Daniel Von Steele stands by the doorway, expression an almost comedic mix of determination and shyness. Brows knitted, mouth in a thin line, but face near red to the ears. The light is better in this room, less stark, and so 47 gets to notice the way the flush reaches all the way down his throat and up his ears, and the way the veins in his hands raise a little with how hard the man’s clenching his fists. His mother is nowhere to be found. 47 molds his face into something less hard, a little more charismatic, and tilts his head in a way he knows to be inviting.

“Tobias?” Daniel says, voice unsure, before he seems to gather himself and takes a step forward. “I — I’ve been looking for you.”

“Oh?” 47 responds, schooling his body language into one more relaxed. “Well, you’ve found me.”

Daniel must’ve not anticipated that response, by the way he blinks a few times before he replies. “Yeah, I’m. I — No, okay, come  _ on _ Daniel — I just wanted to know if you wanted to, maybe. Grab a drink sometime?”

“There’s a free flow bar two rooms down from here,” 47 says nonchalantly.

“What? No — No, I mean. I mean, um,” Daniel struggles, “I mean  _ outside of here. _ Like… once this party is over. Just you and me.”

Oh. Well then. “I’m afraid I’ll be flying out of town soon,” 47 replies, trying to sound apologetic, “But I’m flattered.”

Daniel takes another step forward. It seems to take him a great deal of courage to make it all the way to just within arms length of 47, judging by the almost desperate look of determination on his face. “No! I mean — Please, Tobias, I. You said I had to be more assertive, right? So just — you don’t have to be nice, if you want to say no then just  _ say no, _ but I saw how you looked at me and — I have to at least get your number or something, I had to  _ try, _ you know?”

47 doesn’t, not really, but he lets his gaze soften as if he does. Around him the radios start to crackle to life as guards start asking in hushed whispers whether they’ve seen Viktor pass by. Daniel’s determination is starting to crumble slowly before 47 in the face of 47’s silence, and, well.

_ “I’ve just checked his medical records,” _ Diana says knowingly in his ear,  _ “He’s clean.” _

47’s never been one to pass up an opportunity that presents itself quite so neatly.

He closes the distance between them with ease, the one Daniel had struggled to even place three steps to. The way the man’s eyes widen at 47’s abrupt movement is almost comedic, and there’s something pleasing about the way the flush seems to only grow redder. This close, 47 can smell the hint of liquor off of the man’s skin mixed with his cologne. Liquid courage, most likely. He takes care to make sure Daniel notices him noticing that, and breathing it in.

“Tobias?” Daniel says, breathless, voice almost in a whisper.

“I can’t stay for very long,” 47 says, low in Daniel’s ear, “But I can at least leave you with a good memory, if you’ll let me.”

Daniel swallows hard. 47 watches it happen; the bob of his Adam’s apple, the way the red seems to creep below the collar. He hears Daniel’s shaky breath and knows he’s caught him, hook, line, and sinker. 

He doesn’t wait for Daniel to talk. 47 just leans in, nips at the shell of the man’s ear; hears the sharp inhale of breath, the shaky exhale, and then 47 simply... turns around, and walks away. Doesn’t bother to look over his shoulder to see if Daniel is following — doesn’t have to, with the sound of footsteps behind him, the rhythm of it simultaneously excited and unsure until it catches up to his side.

It’s almost amusing, the way Daniel tries to take charge of the situation. The determination in his eyes as he digs out his wallet and thrusts a thick wad of cash to the security guard near the bathrooms to make himself scarce at odds with the way his cheeks are flaming red, voice just a little too shaky to sell the look. Not that it matters. The guard takes one look at the money, pockets it, and goes to walk further up the hall, leaving 47 alone to be pulled by the arm into the bathroom and then hesitantly pushed against the door.

47 has to admire the man for his dedication despite his clear nervousness, though. He seems to grow more confident in the privacy, and even more so when 47 rewards it with hands around his hips, pulling him forward so their waists are near flush with each other. Daniel’s breath is hot this close, and it inhales sharply when 47 seals it with a kiss, open mouthed and consuming. Tongues hot and slick, teeth nipping at lips. 47 can taste the remnants of whiskey. He can feel the man shake under his palm, hands scrabbling and pawing at 47’s chest and shoulders, his neck. There’s something warm firming up against his thigh, and when 47 adjusts his footing to feel the growing bulge, Daniel pulls away from the kiss with a grunt and a full-body shudder.

“God,” Daniel exhales, hands still on 47’s chest, seemingly trying his best not to rub his growing arousal against 47’s thigh and failing, “You’re so fucking beautiful. So  _ solid. _ ”

“I try to exercise regularly,” 47 responds, and then grinds his thigh up even harder.

The moan he receives is long and low, stuttering and choked. It’s incredibly satisfying to hear. 47’s never been one to be particularly easy to arouse, never felt the pull of sexual attraction, but he’s always liked knowing he’s doing a job well, and sex is no exception. It’s thrilling in it’s own way — the way Daniel’s forehead leans forward against his shoulder, mouth wet and glistening from where they’ve been kissing, open from breathless moaning. The erection increasingly firm and hot against 47’s thigh, rocking slightly, seeking friction. 47 doesn’t like to think he’s much of an egotistical man, but he does take pride in knowing his effect on people — whether that effect is intimidating them to stone, choking the life out of them, or apparently arousing them enough to drastically reduce them to their animal instincts.

Daniel surges up to kiss him again, hard and needy, before his gaze flickers down. 47 is very much not nearly as hard in his own slacks, and so directs the attention elsewhere by sliding a hand up, raking his fingers through the man’s hair and then tugging it slightly. 47 can taste the vibrations under his tongue when Daniel’s head snaps back in a groan, particularly when 47 latches his mouth to Daniel’s neck. He nips, bites, sucks hard. Behind him the show is still ongoing, and before him Daniel is falling apart in his hands, and in his mind he catalogues where Daniel’s jugular is with his teeth and tongue.

“Lean against the sink,” 47 growls into Daniel’s ear, pleased at the answering shiver he’s given.

Daniel looks at him, dark pupils blown wide to near-black. There’s red marks on his throat courtesy of 47 that are almost hypnotizing when the man swallows. “I… I’m not sure if I’m ready, for, you know. We don’t — Don’t we need, um, lube or —”

“Not like that,” 47 clarifies, and then makes it clearer by holding Daniel firmly by the hips and just. Moving him, until his lower back hits the edge of the sink counter, and 47 drops to his knees.

Daniel’s eyes go impossibly wider. Glazed over with lust, mouth slightly agape in an  _ oh. _

_ “Stop teasing the poor man,” _ Diana chides amusedly in his ear when 47 spends a little too long waiting, teasing, on his knees and rubbing Daniel through his slacks.  _ Fine, _ 47 thinks, and unzips them with his teeth.

“Holy  _ shit, _ ” Daniel breathes. “Tobias—”

47 doesn’t give him time to finish that. He yanks the slacks down to the knees, pleasantly surprised to find the dark grey briefs underneath already starting to stain a little where the cock is straining against the front. When 47 mouths dryly at the bulge, he can feel it, twitching and warm against his lips. He wonders what he looks like, like this. He wonders if Daniel knows the danger that’s on his knees before him. He wonders if the guards are close to finding Novikov’s body yet.

From all the genitals 47’s had his hands and mouth on from people from all walks of life, race, religion, gender or lack thereof, 47 can say this from where he’s lowered the stained grey briefs before him: much like his looks, Daniel’s penis is astoundingly average. Almost painfully so. Clean looking, curves slightly to the left, approximately 5.3 inches by 47’s inspection and, ultimately, very ordinary. Entirely unmemorable. Very much like it’s owner, who’s panting breathlessly above him, whose knees and thighs are trembling, who —

— is placing a hand on 47’s head.

47 barely realizes he’s grabbed Daniel by the wrist until it’s already there, the man making a surprised noise of pain, and it takes all of 47’s willpower to restrain the innate reflex to snap that wrist in half.

Instead, he softens his grip, and pries it away gently as he looks up. “I don’t like having my head touched.”

“Oh,” Daniel says, looking immediately apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t — Are you —”

“I’m fine,” 47 replies easily, and proceeds to change the topic by licking the beading precum right off of the cockhead’s sensitive slit.

The high gasp that comes out of Daniel’s throat sounds close to music. The offending hand quickly sails up to the man’s mouth, pain forgotten as teeth digging into the meat of the palm as if it could stifle the noises.  _ Unlikely, _ 47 thinks, spitting into his own hand unceremoniously so he can begin stroking the erect member before him, listening to Daniel’s poorly muffled sounds. Not that he minds. The louder they are, the better it serves the purpose. 47 proceeds to muffle nothing as he ducks his head down to suck one of the balls into his mouth, slurping at it wet and obscene while his hand pumps a smooth glide of spit and precum all along the length.

He’s missed this, almost. It’s been awhile since he’s last done this — since he’s last felt this weight in his mouth, the wiry hairs against his tongue, the thick warm musk against his nose and cheeks. It’s nice, occasionally. Relaxing. A brainless activity he can enjoy while feeling the person before him fall apart completely in his hands. He’s still completely aware of his surroundings, of course; beyond the wet sounds of his mouth laving attention onto Daniel’s scrotum and Daniel choking back sounds above him, 47’s plenty aware of the sound of footsteps outside. Distant conversations, the low thrum of music as the show continues.

He isn’t even surprised when Diana’s voice crackles in his ear right as he’s sloppily tonguing the base of Daniel’s cock, and says,  _ “They’re doing a sweep for Novikov.” _

_ Noted, _ 47 thinks as he pulls away. He watches Daniel, who’s watching the string of saliva that connects from 47’s lower lip to Daniel’s balls, already dripping obscenely and staining the briefs they’re hanging over. He’s completely red and swollen in 47’s hand now, hard and throbbing, pearls of precum beading and dripping and sliding down 47’s wrist. It’s all terribly wet. He’s staring openly, eyes blown wide and hazey with lust, mouth glistening and panting, and 47 takes great pleasure in watching it open wider into a half-broken moan when he licks the sensitive slit again, and then sucks the whole head into his mouth.

The salty taste of precum coats 47’s tongue as he feels the cock in his mouth throb, hot and pulsing, his tongue pointed to trace the slit and ridge of the swollen head before bobbing his head to take it all even deeper. He controls his breathing so he can take his time, suckling wetly on the twitching length in his mouth, idly documenting the feel of the vein running along the underside while simultaneously listening for a change in footsteps outside. His wet hand moves to fondle the balls, now tacky with drying saliva, and his other hand digs into the hairy meat of Daniel’s thigh, an anchor point for 47 to hold onto while he suckles and laps and swallows.

Daniel isn’t going to last, 47 can tell. He’d been so easily wound up with just some kissing, with a thigh against his crotch, and now he’s panting and whining into his palm, seemingly unsure about whether to keep his eyes open or have them squeezed shut from the sensation. His hips have started to move, aborted little thrusts that speak of a quickly fraying thread of self control, and 47 isn’t helping with how he welcomes it, does sinful things with his tongue as if he could trace the name he doesn’t have into the meat of it.

Each move has Daniel whining, and in a haze of arousal he tears his hand away from his mouth and whimpers,  _ “Tobias _ —”

“Oh, shit!”

Daniel jerks hard enough that his shoes scuff on the floor, and 47 wonders if the man’s aware how fortunate it is that 47’s skilled enough not to bite down on reflex. He doubts it, preoccupied as Daniel is on the intrusion — the bathroom door wide open, a CICADA agent standing in the doorway, staring at them both while Daniel stares at him and 47 remains on his knees, mouth still wrapped snugly around the hot length in his mouth that doesn’t flag for even a moment, shooting a little spurt of precum instead.

It doesn’t last more than a few seconds, all in all: The CICADA agent’s gaze flickers in quickly growing embarrassed horror between 47 and Daniel before he hurriedly exits, slamming the door behind him. 

Above him, Daniel’s face has gone from shocked to absolutely mortified, panicked little noises falling out of his mouth, “Oh my god, oh my god, I can’t believe that just —  _ unnnggg! _ ”

That’s as much as Daniel gets to say before 47 cuts him off by swallowing him to the root.

His purpose has been served. Therefore, 47 doesn’t hold anything back — dropping all pretenses of possibly being new to this by taking Daniel deeper, swallowing him down, hollowing cheeks and sucking him like 47 could devour him whole like this. 47 doesn’t offer him a second to rest; as soon as his nose hits the wiry patch of hair at the base of Daniel’s cock, he swallows hard once before pulling off and starting all over again — bobbing his head rapidly, tongue moving expertly as he engulfs Daniel down over and over again, feeling the leaking head hit the back of his throat and then some, letting Daniel feel the muscles in his throat contract as he swallows around every salty spurt of pre that leaks.

If no one nearby has realized what’s been happening in here before, they would now. The sounds are loud, wet and smacking and obscene and echoed in this bathroom, saliva and pre running down 47’s chin. Daniel’s completely abandoned the idea of muffling his noises — his hands are gripping against the edge of the counter white-knuckled, one of his palms glistening and red from where teeth had been digging in. Moaning, whimpering, half-choked guttural noises erupting from his throat, splitting off his back teeth, that 47 drinks down like a fine wine. (Well, he’s allowed to take pride in his work.)

The final blow comes when 47’s hand moves from massaging the balls to ducking behind them, searching out the patch of skin between them and the tight hole just behind it, presses his fingers into the perineum  _ just so _ —

Daniel  _ keens, _ loud like he’s been punched, loud like he’s dying, as 47 feels the white-hot ejaculate shoot into his mouth, the bitter-salt against his palate, pooling on his tongue. Daniel’s hips keep thrusting through the aftershocks, mouth wide open and eyes shut tight, little  _ ah-ah-ah _ s and  _ Tobias, Tobias, oh god, _ falling out from his lips as 47 keeps his lips sealed around the cock still pulsing in his mouth.

47 feels the shake in Daniel’s knees long before they finally buckle under the pleasure, and 47’s quick to pull off of Daniel’s cock with a filthy  _ pop _ , stand, and wind a strong arm around the small of Daniel’s back as 47 leans off to the side to spit the release into the sink, catching the man just in time. Even takes the time to idly rinse his mouth as Daniel shakes in his arm, leaning a forehead to 47’s shoulder in a much more debauched parallel of how they started this tryst, shaking and panting and catching his breath.

His face is still ruddy red when 47 comes back to face him. Grows even redder when 47 gently releases him, steadying him against the sink before tucking his cock into his briefs and zipping his slacks back up for him. 47 doubts that he minds. Doubts Daniel even has the sense in himself to move right now, let alone perform finer motor functions like buttoning pants. 47 even straightens both their ties.

_ “They’ve just found Novikov’s body,” _ Diana informs, as he’s finishing up.

Daniel swallows. “I,” he says, and seems to forget the rest of what he wanted to say.

“Thank you,” 47 says, looking at Daniel but speaking to Diana. And then, leaning forward to press his mouth lightly against the corner of Daniel’s, he says, “Take care of yourself. Confidence is a good look on you.”

47 leaves Daniel like that: leaning heavily on the bathroom sink, looking simultaneously neatened up and like he’s been ravished, every inch of him clearly well-blown, red-faced and stupefied in his lust. As the door swings shut, 47 feels a sense of satisfaction in himself — a job well done, in his opinion. 

And then the evacuation siren starts blaring, and 47 lets himself disappear into the crowd.

* * *

“Mother, I’m… I’m gay.”

He wonders if he should’ve waited for a better time to tell her, rather than right when she’d mid-sip of her morning wine, but then as she’s coughing out sauvignon blanc from her windpipe he thinks: no. No, there is no better time.

If there’s anything Daniel’s learnt over the last two weeks, it’s that time is simultaneously bullshit and that he’s wasted too much of it. In just one night, he’d been forced to some fashion show he had no interest in only to have a gay awakening with the same guy who’d later suck his soul out through his cock and then get walked in on by guards and — oh, right,  _ there were double murders happening at the same time.  _ Nothing quite blurs one’s concept of time than going from having a softcore lobotomy via orgasm to immediately being ushered out of a bathroom because of a mass evacuation and then spending hours interrogated by police.

He’d barely remembered his name when the officers asked him for identification, for fuck’s sake.

Still. That night had been a lot of awakenings. And he knows he’s sort of a callous asshole for focusing on his own identity crisis when two people were being killed that night, but frankly, he never cared much for Novakov  _ or _ Margolis and they were apparently up to shady shit anyway, so he doesn’t care. They wouldn’t bat an eyelash if  _ he’d _ been killed, would they? Besides, he thinks he’s paid his dues just in sheer embarrassment when the police had dismissed him and Tobias on account of them... having an alibi at the supposed time of death. (Daniel’d seen the same bodyguard agent who’d walked in on them and promptly wondered if he could die from shame.)

But that was then, and this is now. Two weeks of questioning, exploring, travelling, and recollections to many, many,  _ many _ times in his youth he’d snuck guilty glances to sports magazines showing toned men in tennis shorts and the few times in college he’d fumbled around with his male roommates as a ‘joke’, and now he’s finally here. Finally standing up for himself, because frankly, after a night like that, he’s lost all qualms on trying to pretend all is right with things.

So he stands firm, hands balled into fists and trying his best to somehow stifle the flush on his cheeks as his mother wipes the wine off of her chin, scowling at him. “Now?  _ Now _ you tell me?”

“I can’t lie to myself anymore, and I’m sick of having to do it around you.” Daniel says determinedly. Tobias’ voice plays in his head;  _ Be assertive. Confidence is key. _ He lets the thought stabilize him, and then tries his best not to let the memory of the voice get him half hard in front of his own mother. “You can disown me if you’d like, but I’ve realized things about myself, and I’ve wasted too much time already pretending to be someone I’m not.”

His mother stares him down. Daniel meets her eyes, and summons all his willpower not to break away from it, even as he feels his fortitude slowly crumble at her withering gaze. He can do this. He’s strong. He’s badass. Who got his dick blown so good he’d temporarily lost feeling in his feet and then somehow got through intense police questioning? It’s him. He is Daniel Von Steele, and he is—

“Fine,” his mother responds, crossing her arms and leaning back. “But I still want grandkids, so figure it out!”

Daniel sighs.


End file.
